Free Reclaim: A Recovered Innocence Novel by Beth Yarnall

information he discovers; it would just be secondhand. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that either. The control freak in me doesn’t like that idea at all.
    I can’t have it both ways. Either I let Nolan do his job separately from me like he said, or I go with him and maybe do things that redefine my morality. Which to choose?
    “I was planning on going to that motel tomorrow,” he says, cutting into my thoughts. “Maybe talk to some of the local girls to see if they remember Carla. It’s been a while so it’s doubtful. Prostitutes don’t have long lives. That’s probably something you shouldn’t do with me—I plan to pick them up like I’m a john, and it would be odd to have another woman in the car with me. You could visit Diego’s grave like you promised Carla.”
    A test. To see if I can handle giving him free rein. I know he’s right. I shouldn’t go with him to that motel tomorrow. This is going to be really hard. I had no idea when I decided to take this case that it would make me examine who I am as a person.
    “Okay,” I say. “We can meet up later and go over everything.”
    “It’ll probably be late by the time I get back. Why don’t we meet up Monday after work?”
    “What about everything we found today?”
    “We’ll start on it tonight and see where it takes us. If we need to we can meet up again tomorrow afternoon.”
    “Why not in the morning?”
    He gets a funny shy smile. “It’s Sunday. I go to mass at nine.”
    “You go to church?”
    “What? Are you surprised that someone with seemingly no moral compass would be religious?”
    “No. Yes. I don’t know. Wow. This really highlights how little we know about each other.”
    “I would’ve pegged you for a fellow Catholic.”
    “My strong moral character comes more from living most of my life as an illegal immigrant than from catechism and Sunday school.”
    He gives me a long, considering look, but he doesn’t ask what most people would:
Are you still in the country illegally?
    “My family and I got our documentation when I was fifteen.” I don’t tell him how or why. I’m ashamed to. It’s not a pretty story. It’s not a happy ending.
    I cried when our paperwork finally came through. Not because I was glad, but because it didn’t matter who I was or how hard I had worked. It wasn’t my good grades in school, my part-time job after school, or the volunteer work I did at the local Boys and Girls Club that changed my status from undocumented immigrant to documented immigrant.
    Nothing I did or could ever do would have the same power over my family’s fate as what happened that hot July night. That’s an incredibly sad thing to contemplate. The days after receiving our paperwork were the darkest of my life. I didn’t share that with my family. I didn’t want to take away their joy. Our lives changed. We didn’t have to live in fear anymore. For that I’m grateful.
    Since then I’ve made fighting for the rights of the undocumented my mission. I understand them. I
am
them. Carla and I are more alike than we are different.
    “That’s great,” he says. “Why don’t we go to mass together tomorrow so you can see the other side of me?” He winks. “I’m not totally morally corrupt, you know.”
    I know. And I’m more than who I used to be or what happened to me. I should cut Nolan a break. He’s not a bad guy and he got us into Martin’s office. Something I wouldn’t have been able to do. I owe him an apology.
    We pull up to the window to pay. I give Nolan money for my half of the bill. A few minutes later we’re headed back to his apartment with steaming bags filled with burgers and fries. He unlocks his front door and I’m struck again by how harshly and wrongly I’ve judged him based on what little I know of him.
    The apartment is neat and clean. Not as tidy as Debbie’s house, but it’s definitely cleaner than mine. I’m struck again by the differences between us. Dread washes hot over me